


Press Pause

by marsisaplanet



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, IT 2017 - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Mentions of Mental Illness, Mentions of OCD, Party, Reddie, Stan is dealing with a lot okay?, Stenbrough, benverly - Freeform, mentions of depression, mentions of self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 04:31:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17860331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsisaplanet/pseuds/marsisaplanet
Summary: Stan goes to a party to loosen up, but his crush on Bill Denbrough and his brain have other plans.





	Press Pause

Warnings: Depictions of mental illness (OCD, Anxiety, and Depression), references to self harm and suicide/suicidal thoughts, underage drinking.

 

Stan wondered if he made the right decision. If saying no to Greta’s party in favor of English homework was truly a good idea. Just because he was Stanley Uris, smart sarcastic straight A Stanley Uris, didn’t mean he couldn’t loosen up every once in awhile. Right?

Besides, it’s not as if he’s been slacking off by any means. He’d just gone to state for debate team and baseball season was about to start. He would be a senior next year, Stan needs a chance to be a kid. He’ll be out of Derry soon and while that’s definitely a relief, he would be away from his friends.

The ones he had known since he scraped his knees on that shitty playground bark in Kindergarten. The same ones who had helped him learn how to ride his first bike. The friends that had always been there for him, even when Stan thought they abandoned him.

It’s one night, Stan thought. It’s only one night and I’m a junior and I need to do something with my life. I can go to one party. Right? I can stop being stiff just for a little while?

Fuck it.

Stan scooted away from his desk and threw on a jacket before stepping down the stairs and out his front door. No goodbyes, just gone. The cool March air nipped at his ears as he walked along the sidewalk to Greta Keene’s house. He avoided the sticky wads of bubblegum that lined outside her block. A quick check of his watch and he saw it was 7:30. The party started an hour and a half ago, the losers would be surprised,

He could hear the music from outside. Cyndi Lauper was crooning about how “girls just wanna have fun” before he stepped inside. Kids were sprawled out on the couch, Belch Huggins was already passed out with a lampshade on his head. Henry Bowers stood right above him with a Sharpie in hand. Despite his hatred for the Bowers gang, Stan let a laugh slip out. 

Walking towards the kitchen he saw Eddie in Richie’s lap like a baby, snuggled up close to his boyfriend. At least they weren’t making out. Stan thought about what the other losers were doing. Mike was probably cheering Bill on in a game of beer pong or playing some party game Greta had forced everyone to participate in. Ben was probably doing his best to make sure no one did anything stupid while Beverly was downing shots of Fireball.

The last party he went to with the losers was similar to this. Richie and Eddie grinding somewhere in a corner while Tainted Love blasted from a stereo, Beverly challenging Greta Keene to an arm wrestling contest, the usual. But the thing that was different at the last party was Bill.

. Bill who he had held after Georgie went missing and when he cried tears of joy when he was found. Bill who was all laughs and his best friend. The boy who had finally gotten rid of his stutter after a summer of swimming and promises. Bill, who had pierced his ears at home with a paperclip. Bill who still wore jorts. Bill who had downed three beers before pushing Stan against a wall and kissing him like it was the end of the world. 

Stan had always loved Bill, fuck he always would. He loved the way Bill would wrap his pinky around his when Stan’s hands grew shaky. He loved the way Bill would point at any old red bird and say it was a cardinal. He loved the way Bill would haphazardly pull at one of Stan’s blonde curls whenever he wanted his attention or the way Bill would sit on a rock at the quarry, perched with a journal in his hand. And when Bill had kissed Stan that night, he wondered if it was just the alcohol. He worried that it was just the alcohol. And while Stanley Uris is known to worry, to be anxious, to wash his hands over and over again till they were raw because he “wasn’t doing it right”, he couldn’t let it show.

Did Bill like him? Did he truly? Or was it just another stolen kiss from another person at just another high school party? Bill was a fuckboy that’s for sure, but he stayed away from the losers. He might be an idiot, but he wasn’t dumb enough to break up the losers club. But why would he kiss Stan? Why would he test over a decade of friendship over one drunken kiss? 

Stan didn’t know. It was the first time he didn’t understand or know something and it terrified him. So he ignored it. He brushed off the kiss, he ignored his feelings. He was Stanley Uris. Smart straight A Stan the man, stiff and sarcastic as always. He smiled at Bill’s jokes, he rolled his eyes whenever Richie talked about his wang, he helped Beverly with her Algebra 2 homework. He wasn’t even sure that Bill remembered the kiss. And that was alright, nothing would be ruined that way. Except for maybe Stan’s heart, just a little bit.

He continued to walk to the kitchen trying to distract himself from his thoughts of the last party. He waved at Betty Ripsom as he opened and closed his right fist. There was a bowl full of punch sitting on the cheap marble countertop. It was probably so spiked that it was jungle juice at this point. Stan took a cup anyway. He took two as a matter of fact. 

There was the lightheaded feeling of being tipsy. The small stumbles that could result in him tripping over something as miniscule as a lego. He pressed a hand against the faded pink wallpaper lining the hallway and gathered himself before the bane of his existence started shouting at him.

“Stan the man!” Richie called, wrapping an arm around Stan’s shoulder. “I thought you weren’t coming?”

“Changed my mind last minute,” Stan said with a shrug. “Get a little loose ya know?”

“Well I’m glad you came,” Richie said, his classic smile covering his face. “Greta’s rounding everyone up to play seven minutes in heaven. Wanna join?” Stan knew better than to participate as soon as he saw the devious glint in Richie’s eye. 

“Yeah how about no,” Stan said, back pressed up against the wall.

“Bill will probably play,” Richie said, the glint in his eye growing brighter. While Richie didn’t know about the incident that had occurred at the last party, he was well aware of Stan’s crush on Bill. Richie was his best friend since diapers, his crush was going to slip out at some point.

“All the better reason not to play,” Stan replied with his arms crossed. “Why would I want to see Bill dragged into a closet with some girl?”

“To torture yourself or course,” Stan scoffed. “You also have a chance of ending up in there with him too.”

“Not worth it,” Stan said as he shook his head. He saw a packet of Marlboro Lights peeking out of Richie’s jean jacket, snagging it instantly as Richie protested. 

“Those are mine,” he whined. 

“I’ll buy you a pack tomorrow,” Stan said, twirling a cigarette between his fingers. “I’m gonna hang around, okay?”

“You mean mope.”

“Shut up Richie,” Stan took a sip from his red Solo cup.

“Seriously though Stanny,” Richie said, his eyebrows knitted together. “Are you okay? You seem like you’re in one of your . . . moods.”

“I’m fine Rich.”

“Okay . . .”

Stan cocked an eyebrow. He could recognize that sound of slow disbelief anywhere. He heard it at least once a week.

“I’m fine Rich,” Stan said, resting a hand reassuringly on Richie’s shoulder. Richie sighed, he knew Stan wasn’t.

He knew that Stan’s “moods” was truly just his depression seeping out in little ways. Stan wasn’t good with emotions. He wasn’t good with letting them out, if anything he was good at keeping them in. And the longer they were held in there, the sooner an explosion would occur. The chances of him lying on his floor listening to Morrissey and Bowie were higher. The chances of him smoking up in the highest boughs of a tree with his binoculars around his neck increased. The chances of the scratching coming back became dangerously closer. The chances of the thoughts coming back were even worse.

But Richie also knew better than to push. He knew better than to ask repeatedly because then Stan would snap. And while he didn’t want to have to bike over to Stan’s in the middle of the night, a VHS of the Princess Bride and a six pack of Dr. Pepper in his hand, he didn’t want to piss Stan off. 

Richie hated seeing Stan cry, not as much as seeing Eddie cry, but it was up there. Seeing Stan cry was like watching a lightbulb snap out. It was something out of order, something off. It was a misaligned tile on a bathroom floor, something that would make Stanley’s skin crawl. Something he wanted to fix, but couldn’t. And Richie was the fixer. He made people laugh, but he couldn’t always help his best friend. You can’t just laugh away your illness and that was something that had taken Richie a very long time to understand. He took in a deep breath and looked back up at the blonde boy he’d known his whole life.

“If you say so Staniel,” a small sad smile rested on Richie’s lips as he said this. “Just call me tonight if you. . . ya know.”

“I will,” Stan said with one of his shy yet sharp nods. “I’ll let you know if anything gets bad. Scout’s honor.” Richie gave one of his mock two-finger salutes before stumbling into the kitchen. 

Stan fiddled with that same unlit cigarette as he walked up the stairs. He could hear the cheers of some Sophomores coming from a bedroom. As he narrowly avoided soda stained carpet, he walked over towards the same window he always went to every time he went to a party at Greta’s. Stan began to push it open, placing his cup on the window ledge, cigarette back in its box. He climbed through it gracefully despite his long limbs grabbing his cup after him and checking that his box of cigarettes was still in his jacket pocket. 

The roof wasn’t that sloped or difficult to sit on, but it was still fairly high above the ground. He sat down, pulling out that same cigarette from earlier and finding his lighter in his pocket. Stan stared at the stars as they winked down at him from the navy sky. They were comforting somehow. He knew he wasn’t alone, he was reminded of it everyday, but that didn’t change the fact that he felt like he was.

How far up was he anyway? Stan glanced down below him. About twenty to twenty-five feet? What would happen if he jumped? Probably nothing in all honesty. He had jumped off of that cliff at the quarry into the water hundreds of times without injury. Stan just stared at the cried, cigarette dangling from his lip, fingernails scraping the inside of his palm. But then he heard the sound of the window opening.

Despite the lack of light around him, he could tell it was Bill. Just a glimpse of his red hair peeking through was enough indication for him. Bill crawled carefully next to Stan, hugging his knees after sitting down.

“Hey,” he whispered before stealing the cigarette out of Stan’s lips. 

“What’re you doing up here?” Stan asked, still staring at the ground.

“Just wanted to talk to you,” at that Stan looked up at Bill, an eyebrow raised. “I figured you’d be up here. You always end up somewhere during things like these.”

“I figured you’d be drunk off your ass by now,” Stan said with a small laugh. It was a fair assumption, Bill was a partier. Bill chuckled before taking a drag of his stolen cigarette.

“Nah,” another drag. “Didn’t really feel like it tonight.”

“Why?” Stan asked. “Not very like you. Is something up?” Bill looked down at his fingernails, suddenly becoming very interested in his cuticles. “Did someone do something to you?”

“No,” Bill said with a sigh. “More like I did something to someone. And I’m pretty sure I did it at the wrong place at the wrong time.” Stan swallowed the last gulp of his drink, he wasn’t sure if he finished it that quickly due to the anxious bubbling rising in his stomach or if he was truly just thirsty.

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Yeah,” Bill said, passing the cigarette back to Stan before rubbing his eyes. “And I mean,” Bill sighed again. “I don’t regret it, but I do at the same time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Bill sighed yet again. Whenever Bill would sigh, it was clear that something was really distressing him. Stan had a feeling he knew what it was.

“Why?” Stan asked. “Do you regret it, I mean.” His hand opened and then closed, fingernails scratching his palm.

“Because I’m not sure I did the right thing Stan,” Bill said, looking over at Stan, not meeting his eyes directly, but still gazing at him. “I kissed someone.” Stan swallowed, he wasn’t sure if a confession or heartbreak would come next.

“Yeah?” Stan asked, practically to himself, in a whisper.

“And I really like them,” Bill said with what was almost a cynical laugh, his gaze now fixed at the sky. Stanley took another puff of his cigarette while he stared into his lap. “I really fucking like them.” Bill glanced over at Stan before tugging one of his blonde curls. Stan returned his attention to him, looking up into Bill’s blue eyes.

“You really like them huh?”

“Yeah.” Another ‘yeah’. Another whisper. Another word that each boy used when they weren’t sure how to convey their emotions for the other. 

“Then you shouldn’t regret i-”

“I was drunk though Stan,” Bill interrupted, running a hand through his hair. “And I think I fucked everything up because I like this person a lot.” Stan somehow felt hope and loss at the same time. 

“I’ve known them so long,” Bill continued, looking up at Stan. “And I don’t want to lose their friendship.” Stan twiddled his thumbs. “But,” Bill said after a pause. “Maybe it’s worth a shot ya know? Telling them how I feel.” He looked at Stan, their knees touching. 

“Who are they?” Stan asked, leaning his head onto Bill’s shoulder, praying it was him. But it could be what he thought it was. Just another drunken kiss at just another high school party. 

“I think you know?” Bill said looking up at Stan. “You know them better than me actually.” Stan’s heart dropped a little at that.

“Yeah?” Bill took in a breath, preparing himself for what he would say next.

“Well I mean you know yourself better than you know anyone else don’tcha?” he said, almost in one breath. Words clearly meant to be somewhat confident and cocky came out meaningful and sweet instead. Stan felt the relief rush over him like a warm blanket, he stubbed out the cigarette on top of the roof.

“I suppose I do,” Stan said lifting his head off of Bill’s shoulder, looking directly into his eyes instead. He ran his thumb underneath Bill’s jawline, breath wafting across his cheekbones. “You shouldn’t regret it.”  
“Yeah?” Stan laughed lightly, tickling Bill’s ear.

“Yeah,” he said before pressing a kiss against Bill’s cheek and resting his head on his shoulder. Bill ran his left hand through Stan’s curls before gently tugging one. Stan looked up at him with big brown eyes, his smile small yet showcasing an array of emotions. Bill ran his finger under Stan’s chin before pressing his lips against his.

They both tasted like cigarettes, and it was definitely gentler than the first kiss against that wall, but it slowed Stan down. For a moment, his brain slowed down as if dispersing. He could breathe, and while that seemed over dramatic for Stanley Uris, kissing Bill Denbrough was a pause, at least for a little while.

They broke apart, foreheads touching, Bill running a thumb across Stan’s cheekbone. Stan returned to Bill’s shoulder, his nose in the crook of his collarbone as Bill wrapped his pinky around Stan’s. There they sat, staring at the stars with slow soft kisses until Richie threw a beer can at them around midnight, pressing play.

But Stan could now press pause. He now had his break, thanks to Bill Denbrough.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading. Please check me out on tumblr @marsisaplanetyall . Comments and Feedback are much appreciated!


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